Chapter 535: Gift

Chapter 535: The Gift

Madame Tangli’s breath caught in her throat at that moment; she truly had not expected Richard to hand his Nightmare Blade to Philomena so casually, let alone tell the girl to try it out.

Weren't you supposed to give it to Karen?

Didn't you always think of bringing whatever good things the family had to Karen in the past?

Weren't you always shouting about how Karen was your good brother?

How could you give it to her!

Originally, Madame Tangli felt that using Richard as a stepping stone was a brilliant move, but she truly had not anticipated that this gift-converter would fail today.

Seeing his grandson's action, Old Man Delong felt as though someone was forcefully stuffing two lumps of burning cotton right into his nostrils.

The stench of it was so strong it almost made his nose bleed.

Back in the day, whenever he discovered good things at home, he would also immediately turn around and gift them to his sweetheart; it was just that his family was an array-master clan within the Holy Church, so he felt that the things precious to his family could hardly command much appreciation from his beloved.

However, his wife’s blade inexplicably suited this girl from the Fisher family rather well.

Philomena did not know how to read people's expressions. Because she had once been "marginalized" by Karen—or perhaps it could be called being mentally bullied by him—she harbored a fear of Karen, which meant she was only sensitive to Karen's emotions.

Therefore, when Richard handed the blade to her, she naturally reached out and took it.

This casual demeanor caused the anger in Madame Tangli’s heart to flare up once more.

Old Man Delong, on the other hand, reached up to rub the nonexistent crust from the corner of his eye; even the way she received the gift was exactly the same as his grandmother back then.

Gripping the Nightmare Blade, Philomena’s expression changed instantly, and the blade itself gave a slight tremble, as if responding to her.

For the longest time, the girl had treated reality as a dream, and the name of this blade, as the words implied, was to twist and shred dreams.

Philomena turned her wrist, swinging the blade upward; in an instant, ripples of blade light drifted out, lacking the sharp fierceness of typical blade aura and appearing exceptionally soft instead.

Yet within this softness hid the true, underlying murderous intent, like a gentle breeze caressing your cheek, lulling you into a half-asleep dreamland, blurring the boundaries of reality, so that even after death, a smile could still linger on the corners of your mouth.

Not every weapon could possess emotions; in fact, only the finest among the true masterpieces were worthy of having a "personality."

Personality was the foundation for a weapon to birth an artifact spirit.

This blade of Madame Tangli’s, whether in the past or the present, was considered a genuine upper-tier weapon.

Yet the girl from the Fisher family, upon her very first contact, could stimulate the personality of this blade.

It was just like a wolf pup encountered at first sight, lowering its head to proactively stretch out its tongue and lick your palm.

Philomena stopped her swinging, and then, her gaze stared blankly at the blade in her hand.

This was a similar sense of loneliness, and also a palpable confusion; holding it felt like holding her own emotions.

Looking around, there were many paths, yet she did not know specifically where to go, but crouching and sitting in place was not permitted either.

A faint heat and anxiety rose from the depths of her heart, and a gray luster was also reflected upon the Nightmare Blade.

Seeing this, Madame Tangli bit her lower lip.

As the previous master of the Nightmare Blade, the internal emotions of this blade were naturally the spiritual imprint she had left behind, and this girl had not only smoothed out the blade's emotions but had also stimulated the spiritual imprint she herself had left in the past.

Because back then, she too had been deeply lonely.

For a very long time in the river of history, the people of the Alte family were livestock kept in captivity, their fresh blood a sacrifice to express vows of love during the weddings of those powerful nobles.

Even they themselves, during the proliferation of the family, would often fall into deep, inescapable nightmares when someone passed away, due to the bloodline connection between them.

To a certain extent, in the past, during her youth, Madame Tangli was also lonely.

She left that fragmented family of hers, wandering this world alone, taking on missions to exchange for liquor that could numb her nerves.

She did not know where her path lay, nor did she understand what her future would look like.

She had originally thought that her life would probably be rather turbulent, and then in the corner of some musical note, she would be quietly buried.

Until she met that man surnamed Inmoles.

He was clearly just as young as she was, but his excellence was a height she could not reach.

She had indeed thought about what it would be like if she could be with him;

Because he was too excellent, light seemed to bloom from his body, and this light was enough to smooth over all chasms.

In the selection of a spouse, it was impossible for a human being to completely ignore objective conditions or be entirely unaffected by them.

Whether male or female, in the process of seeking a spouse, having a natural fondness for an excellent partner was itself an instinct.

When animals in the jungle looked for mates, they also preferred to find strong ones, did they not?

She had once drunk wine with him by the campfire, recounting her background and the story of her broken family.

His reply was very calm; he said: A blessing from God, a very beautiful bloodline.

He did not care whether it was the blessing or the curse bloodline of the Alte family; he truly did not care.

Because she believed that when his son chose her daughter to be his wife, he must have been able to see through her daughter’s bloodline at a single glance, yet he still agreed to their marriage.

But to her back then, his lack of care made her perceive a sense of distance all the more clearly instead.

She was not pretentious—truly, she never was; when a woman faced a man she was interested in and admired, her proactivity could often make men who had never enjoyed similar treatment find it unbelievable.

She merely felt that being friends with such a man was already an honor; anything more would easily become tiring, and the one who grew tired would still be herself.

At that time, she was still in an ignorant stage regarding love, life, and family, but she could perceive that feeling of hers—this was not love.

It wasn't until she rescued the young array master from that scouting team, facing this young array master's repeated confessions to her, which annoyed her so much she wished she could just stab him to death with a single blade...

Until one time, she told him condescendingly:

Hey, do you know about the Alte family bloodline? My last name is Alte.

From his eyes, she saw that he knew her family, knew the stories carried by her family's bloodline, and she even saw surprise and fear from his expression.

She smiled, and then she left.

After a while, he appeared again, standing outside her tent, having prepared breakfast for her.

He handed the bowl to her, then leaned close to her, looking into her eyes;

He said that actually, he wanted to say he didn't care at the time, but he was afraid that if he said it too quickly, she wouldn't believe it; he also said he worried she hadn't thought it through clearly and feared he would fail her.

Then he thought about it for many days, confirming that he was indeed afraid, but another emotion far exceeded that bit of fear.

On that morning, holding the bowl and drinking the wild vegetable porridge, she looked directly at this somewhat foolish-looking guy surnamed Guman for the first time.

He could not compare to Diss,

Whether in the past or the present;

When asked the same question after she gave birth to his son, daughters, and even when she already had grandsons and granddaughters, her answer was always the same.

Compared to that man whose mere presence near her would make her subconsciously watch her manners, he fell far, far short.

But for the same question, she had been unable to see anything in Diss’s eyes; yet in his eyes, she saw fear.

She did not understand love; even now, when her grandson was at the age to discuss marriage, she, as a grandmother, still did not know what love truly was;

She merely felt that the person beside you would seem more interesting, and would be the one she preferred and truly wanted, if he could share in your fear, share in your confusion, and share in your joy.

Therefore, during her first pregnancy, she had him seal her Nightmare Blade.

She was tired, desiring to lay down all her burdens. She wished to be a virtuous wife and loving mother, for having seen the world in her youth, she did not view such a life as a burial or ruin of her potential.

Life, after all, required no comparison; it was enough to be happy. The moment one began to compare was the moment one truly began to lose.

He, too, had kept his promise, granting her the life she desired.

Yet...

When Madam Tangli raised her head again, all other emotions vanished from her gaze, replaced by a cold detachment.

This is the blade I prepared for my exceptional grandson,

You,

By what right do you take it!

Karen noticed the change in Madam Tangli's expression and guessed the truth: the blade had been sent here less as an inheritance for Richard and more as an indirect gift to himself.

However, though Karen currently lacked a weapon, he had no desire to rob Richard of his. Indeed, if Richard wished to pass it on to Philomena, Karen was entirely willing to accept that.

For he truly regarded Richard as his own younger brother.

Furthermore, Neo had mentioned that the burial ground of Compassini would hardly lack genuine, high-quality weapons, so there was absolutely no need for him to rush.

Another point was that Dis wielded a sword, and the first weapon Karen had ever mastered was the greatsword Ophelia gave him; he harbored no particular fondness for sabers.

Even though, for him, wielding a saber was by no means difficult.

Still, his grandmother's blade was, truth be told, somewhat ill-suited to him. It possessed a dark attribute, visible not only in its temperament but also within its internal forging and anchored spell formations.

If he were to use this blade, he would be unable to bless it with the power of the Light faction... simply put, it would break easily.

Even with the utmost care, prolonged use would erode its original attributes, causing the quality of the blade to... degrade.

The usually clever Richard seemed like a fool at this moment, actively inquiring:

"How does it feel?"

He could see that Philomena wielded the blade with great comfort.

Philomena offered no polite evasions, nodding as she replied, "Yes, very good."

A gratified smile appeared on Old Man Delong's face.

But Madam Tangli spoke directly in a cold tone, "Let Karen try it."

The weapon converter had failed, but she would not sit idly by and watch such an outcome unfold.

Without hesitation, Philomena handed the blade toward Karen.

"Captain."

Old Man Delong froze for a moment, but quickly added, "Yes, Karen, you try it too."

"There is no need for me to try, the taste of this braised duck is truly..."

Madam Tangli's gaze narrowed slightly, fixing upon Karen.

Ah, Grandmother's desire for control is indeed powerful.

Karen felt somewhat helpless. Knowing he could no longer feign ignorance under his grandmother's explicit demand, he could only extinguish his cigarette and grasp the Demon of Dreams Blade.

Alas, his soul still bore wounds.

The moment it entered his hand, Karen sensed a fierce wave of stray thoughts rushing from the blade toward his spiritual consciousness.

Yet, mental interference of this caliber was practically nothing to the current Karen; he did not even offer any resistance, allowing the stray thoughts to enter his conscious space.

The sensation was akin to drinking espresso, bringing a mild touch of excitement.

Then, Karen raised the blade and essayed a few swings.

The blade began to tremble, and the temperature within the private room started to plunge.

If Philomena shared a perfect affinity with this blade, then Karen and the blade shared a casual mastery; he could ignore all its negative attributes, allowing its power to be unleashed with greater freedom.

However, the defining trait of this blade was its need to be nourished by soul power, and as Karen began to swing it, his own soul power began to converge toward it.

In ordinary times, this minor consumption of soul power would mean nothing, but now, the wound left upon Karen's soul by the Scythe of War was directly aggravated.

"Cough, cough..."

Karen lowered the blade, bowed his head, and began to cough violently, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Blood was coughed out.

"Karen!"

Richard immediately rushed to Karen's side, placing a hand on his back to cast a healing spell.

But Karen pushed him away, shaking his head. "I am fine."

Old Man Delong's eyes widened in shock; he truly had not expected Karen to suffer such a severe backlash from his wife's blade.

Madam Tangli stood up abruptly and came before Karen, her left hand gripping his wrist while her right hand peeled back his eyelid to stare into his pupils.

"Your soul is injured?"

Karen nodded, offering a faint smile. "It is nothing, Grandmother. A period of rest will suffice."

"How exactly did this happen?" Madam Tangli's voice deepened. "Who injured you? Who was it!"

"A small mishap occurred during my advancement, but it is no great issue."

"Advancement?" Old Man Delong asked in bewilderment. "Adjudicator? Have you advanced to Adjudicator?"

"Yes, Lord Delong."

"My goodness, this speed is truly remarkable." Delong pursed his lips, remembering exactly what realm Karen had been in during his first visit to their home.

Madam Tangli, however, looked at Karen with immense gravity; evidently, she did not believe this explanation.

Karen reached out and patted the back of his grandmother's hand.

"An injury to the soul is no small matter, for the vast majority of soul wounds are irreversible. Come, return home with me, and I will have my old man examine you thoroughly."

Delong stood up immediately, nodding in agreement. "Yes, let me examine you."

To the old man, he was merely a brick at his wife's disposal—he could act as a warrior to deliver weapons, or as a physician to treat illness.

"Go prepare the carriage quickly!"

"Right away, right away." The old man immediately stepped out of the private room.

"There is no need, Grandmother," Karen refused once more.

His injury was severe, but he was capable of healing it himself.

"Be obedient and come home with me first," Madam Tangli commanded imperiously. "Right now, nothing is more important than your injury."

Richard immediately chimed in, "Yes, exactly."

Then, Richard glanced back at Philomena, suddenly remembering that Karen still had another important matter to attend to, and quickly corrected himself, "No, wait, that's not right..."

Madam Tangli raised her head and glared at her own grandson. Startled, Richard instantly offered a perfectly submissive smile.

"I still have matters to attend to, Grandmother. In a couple of days, then. In a couple of days, I shall visit the house, if that is acceptable?"

Karen did not stand up.

"You are still young, and you have no idea that if certain wounds are not properly tended to, the consequences will only worsen with time. What on earth could possibly be more important right now than treating the trauma to your soul?"

Philomena rose to her feet then, her voice cutting through the air. "Captain, you should go back and nurse your injuries."

To anyone unfamiliar with Philomena’s temperament, her words at this moment might have seemed like a calculated retreat, a subtle play for sympathy.

But she was a girl who simply spoke her mind; seeing that her captain was so grievously wounded, she chose to face her grandmother alone.

Madam Tangli, keen and perceptive as ever, immediately sensed that the matter was intertwined with Philomena.

"Does this involve you?"

Madam Tangli’s gaze locked directly onto Philomena.

Philomena nodded, preparing to speak, but Karen cut her off sharply. "Shut up."

Obediently, Philomena pressed her lips together and fell silent.

"Grandmother, I am grown now. I have my own affairs to handle, and I know my own physical limits. Please go home, and I will come visit you in a couple of days, alright?"

Madam Tangli stared deep into Karen's eyes.

Much like how Old Man Delon used to sit there feeling an overwhelming sense of familiarity, Madam Tangli could always catch glimpses of the late Dis within Karen, particularly when the grandfather and grandson spoke with absolute earnestness.

This innate dominance and stubborn resolve were truly cut from the exact same cloth.

"Ensure your own safety, and take proper care of your body."

"Yes, Grandmother, I will be obedient."

"As if you ever listen."

Madam Tangli was still harboring her anger. She turned her glare toward Richard, snapping, "What are you standing there dazed for? Go pack up the dishes we are taking home!"

"Right away, Grandmother."

Richard shot Karen a meaningful look before following his grandmother out of the private dining room.

Karen silently pulled out another cigarette. Seeing this, Philomena stepped forward to light it for him, but Karen waved her off.

He lit the cigarette himself and took a deep drag, temporarily suppressing the agonizing ache of his soul wound once more.

Philomena looked at Karen and asked, "Captain, is your injury very severe?"

"It is fine. I only have myself to blame for carelessly nicking myself while playing with a scythe."

"Then..."

"It won't interfere with your affairs."

"Alfred told me that I should pray to you."

"Ah, Alfred. He just likes to act all mystical and superstitious sometimes, don't mind him."

"If I am still myself the next time I step out of that family door... I think I will."

"You are my subordinate, and I am your captain. Protecting you is only right. There is no need to be so solemn."

Philomena pointed to the box on the table and the Nightmare Blade resting inside it, remarking:

"Richard's grandmother forgot to take the dagger with her."

"No, she left it behind on purpose."

"On purpose..."

"Take hold of it for me for the time being."

"My grandmother once told me never to blindly accept gifts from others, especially valuable ones."

Karen exhaled a ring of smoke and tapped away the ash,

saying:

"It matters not. Soon, you won't have a grandmother anymore."

Upon hearing those words, Philomena reached out of her own accord to touch the blade she so genuinely adored. A rare, brilliant smile graced her face, and her tone carried a lightness and joy she had never possessed before:

"Indeed."

———

The next chapter will be quite late, everyone please read it tomorrow morning.